


Comfort Food

by SerenePhenix



Series: Shenanigan(g)s [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family, Touch-Starved, people actually talking about their problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenePhenix/pseuds/SerenePhenix
Summary: Wherein cultural differences run deeper than expected and communication is key.ORLance finally opens up to Shiro and the poor guy isn't really sure about what to do. Doesn't mean he won't try.





	Comfort Food

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative title: My rant/vent-fic about something that really bothers me about MY culture.
> 
> (On an unrelated note: The fluff was needed because I need to read THE ROAD by McCarthy for a term paper and it’s so fucking depressing (and good)…. sickening fluff is the only thing helping at this point)
> 
> Also many happy returns to the birthday boy!

Shiro had noticed a lot of things about Lance in the three weeks he’s been living with them now.

One included the fact that the boy was undeniably loud. It was a strange contrast between the student who monitored his volume in class (with mixed results) and the incessant chatterbox following around whichever of his roommates was available at the moment, talking loud enough for the both of them.

It was interesting to see how fast Lance could adapt and make the best out of a crummy situation, using or rather misusing objects for purposes they were not intended for, improvising when the situation called for it. It was as if Lance instinctively knew how to work around life’s little mishaps as effortlessly as possible – something he very much liked to let everybody in the flat know. And if one of them was _kind_ enough to remind him of the time he almost set himself on fire trying to fix their old, rickety oven… well Lance was very vocal about not being able to remember this supposed accident.

But there was something else that Shiro had taken note of: the fact that Lance was a very affectionate individual. When he talked, his hands would be in motion constantly to illustrate his point, would find their way onto a shoulder while he was listening to Hunk as he vented, would ruffle through Pidge’s hair when she was hanging in front of her laptop for more than two consecutive hours, caught the few times where, whenever they sat at the kitchen table, he would nudge Keith to egg him on to accept the ‘challenge of the day’ as Pidge had mock dubbed it. Shiro himself frequently felt a fist gently nudging him in the shoulder as a sort of greeting, whenever he left or just came back home.

It was something they were getting used to. Not that they hadn’t enjoyed sitting together in the same room, close to each other – which was inevitable with how small their couch was – but with Lance, Shiro felt that there was an edge to these casual touches that held some sort of restlessness, as though he was holding back.

It was hard to grasp and even harder to describe.

It was obvious Lance enjoyed any kind of physical contact that was readily given and initiated. At times, Shiro would even say he relished it, his face and whole body relaxing, seeking out more of the sensation and he leaned more heavily into Hunk’s quick side hugs, or just held onto Pidge a bit longer when she threw herself at him in retaliation. And although it had never been longer than a fraction of a second, the few, very few times Shiro had seen contact break between Lance and anyone involved there had been a flash of something sharp and hurt.

Yet, it was always gone so quickly that Shiro could only admit to himself that he was either too tired or that he should seriously cut back on the coffee, since it seemed to be negatively affecting his ability to assess situations and people’s expressions. But after the fourth time he witnessed something dim in Lance’s eyes when he actually scooted away a bit from the boy on the couch, he had the sinking feeling that there as something he was missing and it appeared to be essential to him, although Shiro could in no way tell just _what_ exactly this undefinable and elusive thing was.

It worried him a little. Lance was still on the mend, no matter how much he wanted to protest or prove to them that their care had done wonders for him. He still tired far too quickly for someone as active and energetic as he was or at least made himself out to be, still looked run down although Hunk’s cooking obviously had helped him gain some much needed weight.

And Shiro, very much in character, naturally worried about the new addition to their living community. Keith loved teasing him about it.

But Shiro did not have the faintest idea how to address this ‘not yet quite’ a problem or if it even needed to be addressed in the first place. Should he just go straight up to him and ask? Should he wait for Lance to come to him or any of the others? Should he ask in private?

He didn’t know and the fact that he was not yet familiar enough with Lance to determine a safe course of action was rather frustrating.

What he had not expected was for the opportunity to present itself on another Friday movie night, where he and Lance had been the last ones standing, or rather sitting. There had been a bet involved, one about who could stand watching an all-out crappy movie till the end and Lance as well as Shiro could declare themselves proud winners.

Although Shiro would argue that it felt anything but like a victory, seeing as everyone else had retreated for the night which left them, sadly, with the thankless job of cleaning up after them. The incessant misty spray that had been coming down all day still persisted outside as Lance grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, both of them discussing the uselessness of that one scene where a character had flung himself to his demise.

“It was so obvious! Who even is that stupid?” Lance said indignantly, stuffing the last of the microwaved popcorn into his mouth while Shiro finished the last crumbs from a crinkling and very empty bag of chips.

Shiro gave a small hum: “No one could have jumped that distance.”

“Exactly!” Lance’s hands and arms went up, the young man’s momentum pushing him slightly back into the soft cushions.

It was so typically Lance, the over-the-top exasperation, the smile, the wild gestures that Shiro could not help but laugh.

Lance soon chimed in and they fell back into a sort of sedated silence, one permeated by their tiredness. Shiro was ready to fall over and into his bed. Surely, Lance was no less tired, seeing as he had worked shifts and finished a presentation due to Monday.

He had lamented the fact that he would not have time for it on the week-end, one of the only reasons why Shiro had caved and maybe, just maybe given him a few inside tips on where to find the best materials and publications. He wished he could pretend the blue puppy-dog eyes did not work on him but it would be a blatant lie.

As they sat here, he watched as Lance shifted restlessly, that same nervous energy Shiro had been witness to so many times now over the past few weeks and he figured that maybe, now that they were amongst themselves, he could venture and ask. Finally understand what was going on with Lance.

“Mind telling me what all this fidgeting is about?”

Lance froze for a solid ten seconds, Shiro growing worried since it looked like he wasn’t breathing either but he got a grip on himself fast. Still, it was now impossible to play his reaction off. Much to Shiro’s displeasure he flashed him a grin that was as dishonest as it could get with Lance.

“It’s not a big deal.”

Going by his tone of voice or the way he could not look Shiro in the eyes at all only confirmed his suspicions. Lance’s lips moved as his jaw worked, his front teeth rubbing and biting on soft flesh until it started turning an irritated red.

“I don’t believe you.”

Lance stilled, stopping his chewing on his lips. Instead, his leg started bouncing, small tapping at first until it jumped up and down frantically, too much tension and restless energy to remain contained in that lanky but immobile frame. Still, he refused to look up or rather, as Shiro quickly realized, he was far away, his eyes distant.

Taking pity, he put his warm flesh hand on the jiggling knee in an effort to get the boy to calm down and find the way back to his body. It had the desired effect, Lance’s leg stopping its motion at once while blue eyes snapped to the fingers gently squeezing a bony knee.

Shiro did not wish to make Lance more uncomfortable than he obviously was already. It was another conversation he was not ready to have but despite all of his respect for the boy and despite his strict policy of giving people time to figure out their own stuff, Shiro had come to understand that unlike Hunk or Keith, or even Pidge, Lance was not all too willing to admit to the things he needed to be completely at ease – to be completely happy and satisfied.

It was much too early to say where it stemmed from, having known Lance for merely seven months now and really starting to understand the young man since he had moved in. It was impossible to say whether it was due to pride or merely a try at getting by with as little means and troubles as possible. But Shiro did not like it, no matter the reason and he did not wish to further encourage Lance to act as though he were at ease and content when that was not the case.

Pretending and swallowing down your feelings never ended well, Shiro had enough experience with that truth not just from his work as a TA but from life in general. And he wanted life in this community living to be as pleasant as possible with five individuals as different as the ones sharing the limited space. And something as difficult and demanding as that could only be achieved if people were honest and up front about their feelings.

Something that Lance for all his chattering and talking and communicating, was not readily committing to.

“Listen” He looked straight at Lance, not allowing him to look away and dismiss the matter any longer. “I get that this new living situation is maybe unfamiliar and strange to you yet, no wait,” he added when Lance opened his mouth to interrupt, his brow creasing “but you have to talk to us. We don’t know you like your family back at home does, we cannot know what you think unless you tell us and I have a hard time understanding what you are feeling whenever I or any of the others obviously do something to upset you.”

There was confusion plainly written all over Lance’s face and Shiro got the very uncomfortable feeling that he had missed his mark by a wide shot. It was this incertitude that made his words lose some of their power, some of their conviction as he still struggled to finish his piece.

“I.. I mean… It’s just very much obvious that we are not doing something right. You just- you look down after some conversations, like right now and I just want to understand.”

He finished, rather lamely much to his own embarrassment, withdrawing his hand to rub at his neck until he could feel the burn on his skin and on his palm.

He stared hard at one of their lumpy cushions, some faded pinkish monster Keith had bought on a yard sale just to spite Shiro, when he had insisted on finding something to make the living room more homely. It was an atrocious, heart-shaped sewn lump with little flowers and although Shiro had disliked it with a passion at the time, he had not been able to get rid of it, lest he wished to admit defeat to his little brother.

He twitched when another hand went to grab his, taking it away from the spot he had been rubbing against with more force than he had realized.

He was greeted by the sight of Lance, his head ducked but looking up at him with a taut expression. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes before fixating Shiro with a gaze that was both determined but wrought with hesitation and fear.

Lance had a tight grip on his fingers. Not enough to hurt but definitely strong enough for Shiro to wonder whether he could get out of it without using his prosthesis.

“You guys are not doing anything wrong.” His voice was unusually solemn. “It’s just something that’s been difficult to get used to. Something that has more to do with how differently people interact in this culture than in the one I grew up with.”

He hesitated a moment, mouth hanging open. It was clear he was trying to find the right words and Shiro gave him all the time he needed. He felt some very special sort of excitement fluttering in his chest. He had not expected Lance to open up so quickly. If he wasn’t careful, he might ruin the moment and make the boy shy away again.

After many seconds that felt more like minutes, Lance went on and Shiro noticed how the hand holding his was adjusting its grip, Lance’s thumb running over his knuckles. One glance at his face, at his eyes that were intently staring at the floor and Shiro could determine with certitude that Lance was not aware that he was doing it.

“Back at home, people have no problems with hugging each other, about holding someone’s hand in public or just being close. And with siblings, there is always someone trying to grab you and just kidnapping you to show this awesome thing or to end up in a dogpile after a game.”

His smile was achingly fond.

“And it’s just great, you know? Sitting together with people and to _feel_ close to them just through something as simple as a touch.”

Soon, and much to Shiro’s regret, the smile faded. Even Lance’s shoulders dipped down along with the corners of his mouth.

“When I moved here to study, the last thing I thought I might miss would be hugs.” His chuckle was rather dry and strained. “If anything, I’d have said my mama’s cooking but honestly? Warm and good food is not that difficult to come by – not in this city and certainly not with Hunk as your roommate.”

Shiro could not have suppressed the chuckle even if he had tried to. Luckily, it did not distract Lance nor discourage him. If anything the slight twitch of his lips showed that there had been purpose behind his comment. Soon enough, he picked back up where he’d left off and his tone grew more listless.

“It’s been hard.” The hand holding his squeezed and Shiro had to make sure Lance did not catch the way he actually did flinch a little. “People are more reserved here. The only time anyone seems to be ready to let anyone close is when you greet each other or when you are…well, having a heart to heart.” At that he looked at their hands, finally releasing the tension and letting the blood flow back into Shiro’s fingers; an embarrassed expression flashing over his face briefly but never letting go.

Shiro finally started to understand and was not sure he was entirely ready to fully absorb it.

“Back at home, there wasn’t a day where I did not have someone hug me and pull me close or leaning on me. It’s an awesome kind of feeling. But here…”

His voice petered out and Shiro felt nervous anticipation. Whatever it was that Lance was going to reveal now, he very surely would not like it.

The heel of Lance’s other hand came up to push against his brow as he laughed. There was no trace of mirth in it, just frustration and a whole new level of sadness.

“Can you believe that, before that night where you supposedly cradled me in a fever haze, that I had actually gone six weeks without a hug or really any kind of satisfying contact? I can tell you, it’s a doozy.”

Shiro, much like he had expected, did not know what to say. Intellectually, from everything he had now heard, he knew that what Lance had just described to him was horrible. But another, very detached part of him, did not feel the emotions that Lance was probably hoping to elicit. And it made Shiro feel all the worse. Lance wanted connection and Shiro could not fully provide it because he could not relate to it in the manner he probably should.

Shiro, much like Lance had lamented, was not someone very fond of too much physical contact. He generously provided it when it was needed – as in when someone was ill or distressed or if he wanted to let them know he was proud of them. That was something he felt comfortable with and he himself seldom required much close physical contact even if he did not reject it.

But to Lance, and to his culture, it was an integral part. A part that ensured complicity and closeness and, as he now was starting to understand, Lance’s wellbeing.

He wished he knew what to say. He really wanted to make Lance feel understood. But how did you do that when you could, in fact, not empathize?

The silence persisted, awkward and dragging.

Slowly, that hopeful glow that had been there throughout their conversation, died out on Lance’s face and it was killing Shiro. But the moment Lance tried to pry away his fingers slowly and carefully, Shiro actually held on, giving his friend a meaningful look as he was met with puzzlement.

He hoped Lance understood that he wanted him to go on, hoping with all of his heart that maybe if he explained he might just be able to fully grasp the magnitude of the problem.

Lance lower lip quivered briefly before the Latino took a deep breath.

“The first time I came here people were put off by how quickly I would start getting ‘handsy’. I didn’t get what I was doing wrong and I never would have thought that someone might get angry if I just tried to take their hand on the way to the cafeteria. I remember how that one guy I had started hanging out with after econ actually stopped sitting next to me after I had pulled that same stunt with him.”

Shiro tried to dredge up the memory of the mentioned event, only coming up blank. Probably at the start of the semester when he had not yet memorized everyone’s faces. The hurt in Lance’s voice was evident and Shiro couldn’t help but silently agree that it was an over-the-top-response.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Lance amended, obviously mistaking his expression for something else entirely. “Hand holding and touching in public for couples only. I got that memo rather quickly.”

He did not give Shiro any chance to explain himself, pushing on.

“But I can’t stand this whole no-touching business.”

His blue eyes were brighter than usual and Lance was quick to wipe at them with a knuckle.

“Most days, all I wanna do is work up the courage to ask someone if it’d be alright to… to just sit close together. But I get that it’s awkward and uncomfortable. That’s why I never do, even if my skin feels like it’s trying to dissolve itself some days. Or like as if there were ants crawling everywhere.”

He finally turned his face back to Shiro. He never would have thought Lance could look so utterly defeated when he had already seen him delirious with fever. Yet, it could not compare to the misery dulling Lance’s eyes, tugging his mouth down in a wan smile. The chuckle he gave was one of embarrassment and dejection. It drove a spear through Shiro’s heart.

Unbidden, he saw that very same expression in front of his mind’s eye, only it wasn’t Lance but Keith’s – much younger and just as hopeless. Shiro remembered how he had sworn he would never let it come to this again, not if he could help it. What he could not have known at the time, was that it would not just be his little brother that vow extended to. It applied for everyone in this flat, every single one of these people he had come to view as family.

Keith whom Shiro had held when he was nothing but a floppy little toddler that loved to crawl around the house. Pidge and Matt, without whose help he would not be as independent as he was today. Hunk who was one of the most supportive and down to earth people he had ever had the pleasure to meet. And finally Lance, who was just that good at making friends with people.

“Sorry to dump all of this on you.” Lance gave a small cough as he hurried to get up, scrambling to get ahold of all the small, empty containers and bowls that had been left by their missing roommates. Lance’s movements were uncoordinated and shaky as he suddenly started to make excuses. Excuses Shiro did not want to hear. The worst part had to be how hard Lance was trying to avoid looking back at him as Shiro slowly stood.

“It’s fine! I’m just being a baby. I’ve been through worse. I’m sure it’ll pass!”

It was all nonsense.

“Lance.”

His calm tone must have surprised the young man, with how he was looking him with wide eyes over his shoulder.

Shiro admittedly felt sheepish as he just held his arms open in a crude sort of invitation, growing even more self-conscious as Lance simply kept staring as though he had caught sight of a mythical creature. But Shiro would not go back on this wordless offer, especially not when Lance had shown so much bravery.

Something shifted in Lance’s expression, along with something in his mind it seemed, and although Shiro lacked the words to describe it, he knew he had done the right thing when the bowls were put back down on the cushions without a sound and he had to brace himself a little for the warm weight that knocked into him.

Lance’s arms were long and wiry, winding around him with strength he had not expected but the young man made sure not to make it constricting. Shiro felt the seams of his shirt shift and brush against his skin as Lance’s hands fisted into the back of it while he buried his face under Shiro chin.

Shiro held on tight, just like on that night when Lance had been sick and miserable, wanting to provide all the comfort imaginable.

The brown strands were soft as he carded through them with his flesh hand. Lance’s whole frame shuddered with a contended sigh. He practically melted into Shiro.

This was okay. This was safe. These were waters Shiro knew how to navigate, where to go and where to steer clear.

They remained locked like this for a good while. It was impossible to tell how long exactly.

Through the window of the living room, Shiro watched as the fine misty spray kept on falling, diffusing the light of the single lantern outside, coating the glass with water till it ran down in rivulets. It was surprisingly peaceful.

After some time though Shiro felt restlessness creep into his own limbs, starting with his fingers that began to lightly tap in a nervous rhythm. He wished he could pretend he was fine with this for so long, that he could drag this moment out some more for Lance’s sake but…

As if he could read his mind, Lance slowly and carefully dislodged himself, a kind and appreciative smile greeting Shiro.

They nodded at each other, silently working on turning the living room back into a ‘safe-to-walk’ area. Maybe he should feel a little ashamed at how many wrappers were strewn around the spot he had occupied the whole evening but honestly, Shiro was too tired but also too relaxed to care.

Soon, the garbage found its way into a bin and the dishes were neatly stacked in the sink, both of them unwilling to get started on trying to wash them _without_ waking up their friends.

Lance gave a mighty yawn, one Shiro mimicked, his jaw cracking audibly. They shared a look, eyes tired and droopy but Shiro would not want it any other way. Still, there was one thing left to do as he reached out and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

He could almost feel the laugh bubbling in his chest once Lance listened to the first sentence, astonishment evident on his face.

“Hey, thank you.” The Latino’s mouth was wide open, gaping at Shiro. “I’m glad you opened up about this problem and… I promise I’ll be there to help. I cannot speak for the others,” he added after a moment of thought “but I bet Hunk wouldn’t mind. All you have to do is ask.”

He couldn’t tell whether Lance did it to hide his blush or because he had grown more confident in what he was allowed to do, but he nudged his forehead into Shiro’s shoulder, his warm breath tickling the hair on Shiro’s arm.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

He might not be able to completely empathize, might not be able to really understand the importance of it all, might not always be able to provide comfort as Lance needed it but Shiro was willing to try – willing to be there for the young man in a way that he would have wished for himself all those years ago. Wished to support someone he felt was so much braver then he had been at the time.

And if anything, being allowed to see the small and sincere smile on Lance’s face would always be reward enough.


End file.
